


Potatoes: Thanksgiving In Three Acts

by Torra



Category: Die Hard
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-11-19
Updated: 2009-11-19
Packaged: 2017-10-03 09:46:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,382
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16704
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Torra/pseuds/Torra
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The first three Thanksgivings Matt shares with the McClanes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Potatoes: Thanksgiving In Three Acts

"Would you _stop that_!"

Lucy's fierce hiss had Matt nearly jumping in his seat. He dragged his eyes back to her, "What?"

She rolled her eyes at him, "You know what, so _stop it_."

Holly gave them an odd look, but Lucy ignored her. Matt tried to give her a 'nothing wrong here, just move along, Ma'am' smile, but Holly just gave him a small glare in return, like she always did. Matt sighed and went back to looking at Lucy. He bent his head down to wipe his mouth with his napkin, and kept it low when he tried speaking to her again. "Look, Lucy, you keep saying I know what it is I'm doing, and I'm telling you, I really, _really don't_. So if you don't actually tell me what it is you want me to stop, then I won't be _able_ to stop, because I don't know what it is I'm supposedly _doing_."

A fierce jab at her potatoes, "Stop _looking_ at my _dad_, dumbass."

"What?" The yelp drew the eyes of everyone for a minute, and a puzzled, 'everything okay?' questioning look from John. Matt gave everyone an embarrassed, "Sorry. Sorry." Before giving up the pretence and just turning to Lucy completely, though still whispering to her, trying to be quiet enough that Jack on her other side wouldn't overhear. "What?" he repeated at a much more discreet volume.

More jabbing at the poor, defenceless roast fingerling on her plate. "Do you know how _embarrassing_ it is to have your _boyfriend_ making moony eyes at your _dad_ during a family dinner? I mean, it's bad enough when you to do it on my couch, or when you get him giggling like a kid mocking those damn westerns of his, but in front of my _mother_?" The potato went flying off her plate. "It's just damned _embarrassing_."

Matt grabbed a bowl and began scooping more potatoes onto her plate, ignoring the sly glances from everyone around the table in turns. "I do not make _moony eyes_ at--"

"Well you sure as hell aren't making them at _me_."

"Lucy..."

"No, you know what?" She threw her napkin down onto her plate and pushed away from the table. Everyone turned to watch them openly now, so she leaned over him, bracing her hands on either side of him, one on the back of his chair, one on the table, and told him directly into his ear, "You know what, if it was just you making moony eyes at him, I could probably live with that, hero worship is hardly new in my boyfriends once they start googling him, but the fact that you call me 'McClane' when you're about to orgasm, but Lucy when we start? That's worse, but you know, I could probably write that off too. But what really gets me, what _really_ just drives it the fuck home?" She turned enough to look him right in the eye, "Is how he does them _right back at you_. Right over the top of my fucking head, and I'm supposed to keep pretending that I don't notice."

And with that, Lucy pushed away from him hard, forcing Matt to quickly grab onto the table so as to not get knocked over as she stormed out of the room.

Holly rushed up to follow her, calling her name as they pass though the house. Holly's parents are both shooting daggers at Matt, neither one (thankfully) had good enough hearing that they were likely to know what just happened, but both firmly blaming him for whatever it was that upset her.

John sighed, "You gonna go follow her or what?"

Matt groaned and hunched his shoulders, "Actually, you know, I really think not."

He began stabbing fiercely at the lone remaining potato on his plate.

It died a gruesome death.

* * *

"This is just typical of him, just damned typical." Holly muttered darkly as she began rolling out the crust for the pie. "I don't think he was on time for even _one_ of the family dinners the last four years of our marriage."

Matt gave a small laugh, "Yeah, I've gotten pretty good at making stuff that re-heats. Which is fine, since mostly we do a lot of takeout, but still, I don't end up cooking as much as I did at my old place." He shrugged and put down his knife, "I'll give him a call."

"Yeah, like that'll do much good if he's neck deep in terrorists, or hostages or, I don't know, _florists_ or something."

Lucy gave her mother a sharp hip check, "Mo-om, you promised."

Holly rolled her eyes, "Sorry."

She hadn't liked this idea, in fact she'd flat out refused when Lucy had first started pressing it. Thanksgiving dinner last year had been bad enough, what with the mysterious breakup at the family dinner table, and having to eat a then silent pie with her daughter's suddenly ex-boyfriend of three months, but to then go to Thanksgiving at _his_ house the next year? Which he was currently sharing with _her_ ex-husband?

Oh sure, everyone swore up and down that there was nothing there, Matt had just moved in after his place had been blown up, and the two had just never found a reason to move into separate places again after that, somehow finding _some way_ for it to work as roommates. And Holly had checked when she got here, surreptitiously going to both their bedrooms and searching for any signs of true co-habitation. But despite skills developed as seventeen years as a detective's wife, she found no evidence to confirm her suspicions. Both rooms were very clearly belonging to their individual owners, with no stray clothing items or books or keepsakes having been left visible in the wrong place. Only the bathroom the two men shared showed a true signs of them together, with their toothbrushes and razors mingled together with John's aftershave and Matt's hair products.

So okay, maybe her husband wasn't fucking a kid young enough to be his _son_, but really, Matt and Lucy weren't dating anymore, so why did Holly have to have dinner with him?

In the end, though, with both of her parents out of town on a holiday cruse, and Jack stuck at school and totally unable to go even a few days without studying for the next big test, Holly really didn't _want_ to spend the day alone. And really, Lucy could play the guilt card as well as any Gennero in the family and so she'd eventually given in. Lucy had insisted that eating with family was always better then eating alone.

Holly really wasn't so sure of that.

"Hey, McClane, any clue what time it is?" A pause, "No, I didn't call just to ask you the time, more to ask you if _you knew_ the time. Yeah, that's right, it's nearly 5:30, good boy...and do you know what _day_ it is?" Another pause. And now a sarcastic smirk, "And I don't suppose you had any _plans_ for today, did you...? Yeaaaaaaah, those would be the ones I was thinking of." He snickered.

Holly sighed and lifted the crust into the waiting pie pan.

"No, no there's nothing you need to pick up on the way, so no, you have no excuse for delaying any longer. And no, I don't believe that you are already in the car."

Matt drifted casually away from the small kitchen and into the hallway, "Look, I don't mind, you know I don't, but I really don't think Holly is appreciating the wait, and really, I'm getting kind of sick of the 'back when we were married' reminiscences. None of them are very _nice_, if you catch my drift, and Lucy hits me with a spoon every time I open my mouth to share a, 'well, when we were _roommates_' story in your defence. Yeah, yeah, I know you didn't, but it means a lot to Lucy, and we both know that that's more important. Yeah, me too."

He drifted a little further away, leaning one shoulder against the wall, tucking his head into the phone. "Look, I really don't mind, just-- Yeah, I can hear the engine." The smile was clear, and Holly was back to doubting her earlier findings, "Just remember that if anyone tries to blow up the bridge or something, just shoot them and hurry on home, no stopping to linger with witty comments before you wrap things up...yeah, I know _exactly_ how you are. I've got a kitchen full of timers, and you officially are on the clock, McClane. You do well enough when you have a count down to some C4, well lets see how well you do under a countdown to me handing your ex-wife some rather interesting newspaper articles I found on you from about, oh, fourteen years ago?"

Matt glanced back over his shoulder to the kitchen, and Holly quickly dropped her eyes to her mixing bowl and the pumpkin puree within, "Yeah, the clock started when the phone call did. You got fifteen minutes left." Matt disconnected the call with a wicked grin, "He should be here in ten. He hates a challenge."

Nine minutes and forty six seconds later (according to a laughing Lucy), John comes rushing though the front door, stopping to strip off a warm scarf and snow covered boots before leaving the hallway.

Matt just laughs and continues sauteing the green beans.

John passes Lucy setting the table and stops for a quick hug and kiss hello and holiday wishes, before he comes the rest of the way into the kitchen. "Sorry, paperwork, couldn't see the clock from my desk."

Holly gives him a cold, 'of course you couldn't' smile, which he returns somewhat more cordially.

"Just mash the damned potatoes, will you? Butter and cream are next to the pot, potatoes are in the colander in the sink."

"Right." John closes the distance as he rolls up his shirt sleeves. Holly finishes plating the turkey and takes it into the next room. Lucy pokes her into the side as she sets it down, "Watch this," she whispers, "It makes my night every time."

Holly turned back to the kitchen to watch what her daughter was so excited about. John was pouring the now partially cooled potatoes (which Matt had drained just seconds before John had come though the door, with an eerily sense of practiced timing) back into the pot, and began muttering to himself, "Masher, masher, masher."

"The same one you put it away in last time." Matt tells him, not looking up from his green beans.

"Right." John turns to the long row of drawers on either side of the sink, and hesitates.

"In the same drawer it always is." Matt says, again, not looking up, now reaching to move the serving plate closer.

John quickly reaches for one of the drawers, and Matt casually tells him, "The one on the _left_ that it's always in."

The green beans slide out of the pan and John has one of the drawers just starting to open when Matt laughs, "The one on your _other_ left that it's always in."

And Matt walks out of the kitchen with the dish as John makes a triumphant noise and pulls a brand new looking potato masher out of a drawer and immediately returns to the pot, stabbing at it with a sort of pent-up savage glee.

Matt smiles widely at her, "We eat a lot of mashed potatoes. Helps him work out his rage issues in a less destructive manner. His boss suggested it to me last 4th of July when he went sorta scary-eyed while manning the department grill at the party."

Holly gave him a tight smile as he went back into the kitchen to pour the milk into the potatoes for John, who was still mashing away, and Lucy settled against the table next to her. "That's my favorite part of every meal with them. I used to secretly suspect Matt of sneaking the thing into a different drawer at random times, but so far I haven't gotten him to admit it." She grinned.

"They seem...comfortable." Holly finally admitted.

Lucy nodded, watching the pair dance easily around each other in the tight space, with far more grace then Matt and Holly had been doing for most of the meals preparation. "Yeah, kinda drives home why we broke up, though, ya know? Matt and I never moved around each other like that, it was always us bumping into each other or accidentally using the knife that the other had just set down for a minute, little things like that, ya know? We just never _clicked_ into each others space like that.

Holly nodded knowingly, and internalised a sigh. She'd never had that with John, either.

* * *

Matt sighed and reached for the pepper grinder and began adding more spice to his potatoes. He didn't really _want_ more pepper in his potatoes, but honestly, he just needed something for his hands to do. Lucy and John were happily chatting, actually having a nice time with each other with no hint of past issues between them, and next to him Holly was having a great conversation with Jack across the table, both catching up on a year's worth of missed events. Which left Matt in the middle, no one to talk to, and no excuse for not noticing the glares Jack would throw at him anytime no one else was looking.

Matt sighed and took a bite, and nearly choked on the heat, grabbing for John's glass of milk without thinking, instead of his own glass of red wine.

John didn't even pause in his conversation with Lucy, didn't even seem to notice other then to raise a hand to pat Matt on the back a few swift times while he coughed, but Jack noticed, and was now sending mental daggers at him as Holly stopped to make sure he was okay.

Matt did his best to assure her he was fine, just hadn't been paying attention, and she gave him an accepting smile and turned back to Jack.

The two of them would never be friends (and really, who was _ever_ friends with your ex's current, gay or otherwise), but she had actually loosened up a lot in the last year. He really hadn't liked Lucy when she'd been so insistent about her mom joining what had _originally_ just been plans for the three of them last year, but then again, how often did _any_ plans go off _as_ planned when McClane's were involved? Truth be told, the _original_ original plan had been for Matt to make the meal, get Lucy and her father to sit down together for it, and then find an excuse as to why he had to leave so they could actually be _alone_ for it, get a chance to really be together for a holiday. The two were really just starting to get to know each other again, and get to like each other again, and it had still been pretty fragile last year.

But after Holly had joined, even Matt had to admit it had been the right thing to do. Holly clearly had been expecting to spend the day by herself, and she really had seemed pretty alone the whole time. She made it clear that she didn't much care for Matt, and she still had some _serious_ issues to work out with John, but she had mellowed a lot by the end of dinner, and now the group was able to at least be around each other without the constant sniping. It hadn't been easy, but constant work, and visible effort on everyone's part had gone along way.

And all that was seeming kinda double edged now that it was _Jack_ who was the problem. Someone had _clearly_ let him in on the (not very well kept) secret about Matt and John sleeping together (probably Lucy, bragging about how happy their dad was now, though maybe Holly trying to warn him before he got hit with it in the face by accident), and he really didn't seem pleased with the idea.

Matt sighed and went back to playing with his spuds, with everyone else happily parred off with someone to talk to, and no one to distract him from how much Jack was hating on his dad's new "boy toy". Matt was pretty miserable, and just barely resisting the urge to wish for some sort of attack or something, a power outage, some excuse to leave the table. He knew wishes like that were _dangerous_ around John McClane.

Gritting his teeth and deciding to just give in and down the potatoes before they got any worse, Matt still had the fork sticking out from between his teeth when the rumble started. Everyone at the table paused in their conversations to look at each other as it passed. Matt groaned.

There was another rumble, this one with a deep sounding _boomph_ at the end, just enough to rattle the glasses and silverware. John put his elbows on the table and buried his face in his hands. "No. Just no." he muttered.

When the third rumble ended with the very clear sounds of an explosion, everyone else gave startled yelps and pushed their ways under the table, leaving Matt and John groaning and looking at each other with mutual acceptance and sighs.

Both men had pushed their seats away from the table and had their cell phones in hand by the time they gave simultaneous rings. John's was set to just a classic phone sound, but Matt's gave off the distinct "Shaft" midi that indicated it was his boss at the FBI. Without having a chance to look at the ID on John's phone, he was willing to bet that it was his Chief at the precinct.

The men gave each other identical 'we might as well' sighs and answered.

"McClane." John answered to Matt's, "Yeah, we heard it. What happened?"

The situation was quickly laid out for them, simple bank robbery gone wrong, some idiots who thought no one would be at a bank on a holiday deciding to attack, and then panicking when they found a bunch of accountants holed up inside. Somehow C4 had seemed like a bright idea to one of the robbers, and the situation had deteriorated from there. Now there were holes to either side of the bank where other buildings had once stood, and eight hostages _almost_ definitely alive inside with six numb-nuts with guns and a long list of demands.

Things probably would have been fine if one of the hostages hadn't been the grand-nephew of the Under-Secretary of the Audits department of the Treasury, who was demanding "someone of importance" be the one in charge of getting the kid out.

Which of course, in New York, meant John McClane, which these days also meant Matt Farrell. It had only taken a couple of incidents smiler to this after Matt had first started working for the Feds, that people had actually started to notice how good of a team the two made (whether officially assigned together or not, the two always ended up working together anyhow). And shortly after that, the higher ups had decided they suddenly needed a joint NYPD/FBI interface and liaison for "high profile" cases. Their bosses had also learned quick not to ask _how_ the team got half the shit they did done, and _never_ looked twice at Matt's computer records. Some things were too important to get bogged down in bureaucratic red tape.

"We're on our way," and "Yeah, yeah, just follow the explosions, same way we always get to our destination," and they were both hanging up and looking apologetically to the rest of the table, just now starting to come out from underneath.

"So it looks like we're gonna have to skip dessert this year."

"Bad?" Lucy asked.

Matt shrugged, "Won't know 'til we're there, really, info usually either changes while we're in rout, or we get there and find out it was wrong to begin with. We've found it easier to just not ask questions 'til we can take in the situation for ourselves."

"I can't believe you to actually go _out_ after shit like this together."

John sighed and leaned his elbows on the table again, "Look, Jack, I know we don't get to do dinners together often, but--"

"But nothing, you got a job to do." Jack snapped back, clearly not wanting to be appeased. "You and your _partner_ had better get going." He reached for the plate of sliced turkey.

Matt chose to ignore that, and got up from the table. "I'll get my bag."

"We'll be back soon, these things usually go down pretty fast. We'll talk about things when we get back."

Matt knew better then to let John react to his son's attitude, so interrupted with a shouted, "You'd better change, too, McClane, I'm _not_ buying you a new good shirt when that one gets torn to shreds," before Jack could respond again.

He could hear John getting up from the table, the rest of the conversation in the room too far away to make out, and a moment later, John joined him in the bedroom. The pair had this pattern down pretty well now, and neither got in the other's way. Matt ducked into the computer room slash guest room and started filling his messenger bag with his basic emergency kit (he really should just keep one prepped and ready to go, he knew, but that just seemed to be _inviting_ trouble), and the pair met up again in the hallway by the front door.

Matt was still in a dark mood, and was startled by John taking his shoulders and stopping him for a kiss before he could get the door open.

"I know you were hoping for more this time. But the food'll still be here when we get back."

Matt was confused for a minute before it clicked that John meant the holiday. "Oh, yeah...right." he sighed, "Well, it wasn't exactly turning out like I'd hoped, anyhow, I'm kinda glad for the break."

John frowned, "What's wrong? I thought it was going fine? Everyone talking, no one screaming at each other over the turkey, Holly actually _speaking_ to you and not sending icey glares towards me?"

"Yeah, because _you_ weren't the one constantly making sure Jack wasn't fingering the steak knives or something. He hasn't spent the last three hours trying to make _your_ head explode by sheer mental will, man."

John signed and rubbed his hands up and down Matt's upper arms, "Come on, it's not that bad. He's just--"

"A bigoted little twit who doesn't like the idea of his dad fucking someone not his mom?"

"Hey!"

It was sharp, and Matt regretted having said it even before John gave his arms the tight squeeze. He sighed, "I didn't mean that. You know I didn't." He groaned and let his forehead drop against John's chest. "I get it, I really do, it's not Jack's fault. I even sympathise, really."

Now John was confused, "Sympathise with what?"

Matt shrugged as he pulled away, "Lucy explained it to me earlier. It's just...growing up, you were always gone, or late, or working these ridiculously long hours, and you and Holly were always fighting, and Jack and Lucy never felt like they _saw_ you much. You'd have one of _these_ situations come up, or you'd just be at work or something, and they were always alone. And then Jack comes over, and now you're with someone his age who actually gets to _see_ you, and who actually gets to spend _time_ with you.

"They were alone when they were kids, but I get to go _with_ you, I actually got a _job_ which _keeps me_ with you all day long, and then we're home together, and then we _run off_ together, and there they are, still stuck alone." Matt shrugged again, "It really sucks, ya know? I get to spend all this time with you, and you're happy, and they're still stuck at the dinner table alone with their mother."

John groaned and let himself fall back against the far wall, "Well shit."

Matt sighed, "Yeah, basically. He came here not knowing what to expect with us, and it's our first meal as this, I don't know, _alternative_ family or whatever we are now, and now it's just like when he was a kid again, only it's not _just_ the job he's competing with for your attentions anymore. So his way of dealing with that is to hate me."

John rubbed his face with both hands, "That's...pretty fucked up."

Matt snorted and gave him a grin, "He's a McClane."

John grinned in return, "Jackass."

Matt pushed away from his own wall and gave his partner's shoulder a shake, "Look, we can't really deal with it right now, bombs are going off and we've gotta go play hero. He's in town for another couple of days, we'll wrap this up, an then you can corner him later. Sit him down with some pie and whiskey, get the kid drunk and threaten him or something."

John snorted and gave him a look. Matt grinned, "What, it's how you talked me out of falling in love with you." He gave a dramatic pause and tilted his head as if in deep though, "Oh yeah," he said brightly, as if the thought had just occurred to him, "That didn't work too well for you, did it?"

John gave another snort and pulled him in for another kiss, "Yeah, laugh it up, Hack Boy."

Matt grinned, "Sure thing, Boss."

Another kiss, but this one was interrupted by another, slightly louder rumble and explosion. The pair parted with a sigh.

"We'll finish that later, too. Come on, let's go kill some bad guys."

Matt put on his coat while John called out to the rest not to wait up, they'd come back when it was all finished. Matt looped John's scarf around his neck before opening the door, and another McClane/Farrell Family Thanksgiving marched onwards.

**Author's Note:**

> Huge, huge, _huge_ thanks to MathMusician. I was talking to her about another fandom and mentioned offhand that I was starting to come up with fics for DH4, and she immediately jumped on it and offered to beta and gave me someone to talk to about my newest obsession. Any mistakes that slipped though her wonderful efforts to corral my dyslexia are, of course, entirely my own, and I can't thank her enough for how wonderful she's been with me.


End file.
